


In the Middle of the Night

by c0cunt



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, keith and shiro are bros that smooch sometimes okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2019-01-21 18:00:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12462963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/c0cunt/pseuds/c0cunt
Summary: Keith has a report due in about 40 minutes.He's been up for two and a half days already.And yet, he'll put all of that aside the second that Shiro calls him.





	In the Middle of the Night

**Author's Note:**

> alternate title that i considered: in the middle of the knife  
> aNYWAY, i pumped out most of this in ~2 hours. but happy birthday keith ♥

The screen was slightly blurred by Keith’s tiredness, squinting without his stupid glasses at the fuzzy words on the screen.  He still had another half hour before he needed to submit his paper (thank god for Professor Smythe giving him that birthday extension), but the words that should’ve easily poured forth from him just.  Weren’t coming out right, if at all.  He probably shouldn’t have had that third red bull, or stayed up until 5am with Pidge while playing Left 4 Dead 2 like the dumb nerds they were.  Keith huffed in frustration, digging both of his hands into his eyes for a second, trying to wipe away the blurriness.  All that he succeeded in doing was smearing eye wetness around, and he felt even more tired as he tried to refocus on the screen.

 

“For fu-u-u-u-ck’s saaaaake…” Keith yawned, shaking his head violently.  Curse his non-existant time management skills, they were going to be the death of him. Sitting up straight, Keith twisted his back, savoring the popping sound and tension release that came with the movement, before slouching over his keyboard again.  He couldn’t let himself be distracted, when he only had to write the goddamn conclusion now.

 

It was as he finally got a tiny breakthrough, tapping at the keys hesitantly, that his phone started screaming.  Literally screaming, it nearly made Keith scream like a baby at the unexpected sound breaking the silence.  When he and Shiro were younger, Shiro had created his own ringtone, screaming part of their band’s newest song, and Keith had never bothered to change it.  Even when their screamo band had failed (as it was doomed to), Keith couldn’t bring himself to change Shiro’s ringtone to some of the...Less painful singing that he did now.  Keith tripped over his own feet as he scrambled to get his phone, just as the verse restarted.

 

“Jesus fucking christ on a cracker, Shiro, it’s…” Keith paused, squinting at the time on his computer.  It was still too blurry for Keith to read, but Shiro beat him to it.

 

“Keith, come outside real fast, please?”  He begged urgently.  Keith immediately woke up that much more:  Shiro would only need him at such a time if it was important.  

 

“On my way,” Keith was already pulling on his jacket as he scrambled out of his dorm room, barely grabbing his key to lock up behind him.  He was at least glad he still had his boots on, hardly stopping to close the door as he scrambled for the stairs.  Being on the fourth floor sucked sometimes, and Keith cursed the entire run down, panting as he finally hit the almost-deserted lobby.  The security guard at the front desk, Kolivan, glared at Keith as he scrambled out, but he watched in silence as Keith nearly face planted into the door, tripping over his own feet when he didn’t lift one as high as he should’ve.

 

And Shiro was there - standing in the courtyard between dorm buildings, nervously tugging at the long sleeve covering his prosthetic.  He looked up as he heard Keith leaving his building, the worry on his face dissolving instantly into a delighted smile at seeing his best friend running to him.  It felt like Shiro hadn’t seen him in a thousand years, even though they had studied together not even two days ago.  Without hesitation, Shiro jogged the last little bit, and let Keith barrel into him, laughing as Keith grunted from hitting an immovable object.  The momentum Keith had gained made them both stumble, and Shiro tried to spin Keith into a hug.  All he succeeded in doing was preventing them from falling, and Keith huffed indignantly at ending up almost directly in Shiro’s armpit.

 

“C’mon, hurry,” Shiro said urgently, pulling Keith more upright, and taking the other man’s hand urgently.  Scenarios flashed quickly through Keith’s mind, more worrisome than the last, as he tried to keep pace with Shiro’s sprint to the old truck that Shiro’s father had given him.  Shiro rushed Keith in, scooting him along the bench seat until there was just barely enough room for Shiro to fit.  Once inside, the urgency that Shiro had been feeling fell away a tiny bit, focused instead on driving.

 

Within a few minutes of leaving campus, most of civilization disappeared.  The expanse of desert around them stretched in either direction, a far cry from the lush jungle that was campus life.  Keith’s eyes narrowed as he recognized where they were going, accusingly glaring at Shiro as they pulled up to the abandoned shack they had discovered after anxiety driving together to avoid studying for finals last semester.

 

“Shiro.”  Keith bit out as his best friend parked the truck, his annoyance fading when he saw the pleading look on Shiro’s face.  With a sigh, Keith followed him out of the truck, trudging to the shack’s door, already knowing what was waiting there.  Shiro jogged ahead of him, grinning over his shoulder and catching Keith’s eyes on his ass.  Keith didn’t even bother feeling embarrassed - Shiro had _the best_ goddamn ass, even he could admit that, merely raising an eyebrow when Shiro hesitated at the shack’s door.

 

“Okay, so, uh…” Shiro said, biting his lower lip as he tried to figure out what to say.  Keith’s other eyebrow rose, seeing his best friend so nervous, and unable to find words.  Shiro _always_ had words.  Eventually, Shiro just sighed in frustration, and opened the shack’s door.

 

“Happy Birthday Keith,” Shiro murmured as Keith stalked past him, freezing just inside.  The dilapidated shack had been cleaned, as much as possible.  Some of the holes in the walls were filled in, the floor swept out, and a few streamers fell from the ceiling.  Sitting on the stupid coffee table they’d made out of a board and some cinderblocks, sat a small cake with a single candle sticking out of it and a flat, wrapped box.  Keith stared distrustfully at the box, not one for surprises - he jumped easily as Shiro’s hand squeezed his shoulder encouragingly.

 

“You called me, sounding worried as all fuck, to bring me out here...For a cake and a box?”  Keith asked, as Shiro steered him inside.

 

“Yup,” Shiro popped the ‘p’, as he wrestled a lighter out of his pocket, kneeling at the table as he reached out to light the candle.  “I didn’t make the cake, but it’s devil’s food,” He added helpfully.  Keith slowly crouched opposite him, and Shiro hummed ‘happy birthday’.  

 

“Did you bring forks?  Or plates?”  Keith interrupted.  Shiro froze, eyes wide as he mouthed the word ‘fuck’.  Keith couldn’t help laughing as he blew out the candle, rolling his eyes at his friend.

 

“Didn’t I say that I didn’t want anything except to be stabbed to death for my birthday?”  Keith added flatly as he dragged the box closer.  Shiro ripped off a tiny bit of a streamer, and threw it at Keith’s head, pouting as Keith continued to laugh at him, shaking the box experimentally.  Unable to identify what noise it made, Keith slowly peeled back the gift wrapping, sticking the pulled-off tape onto the table as Shiro held his breath.  When the plain box was revealed, Keith immediately flipped off the lid, and sucked in a deep breath, eyes widening.  The silence stretched on almost uncomfortably long, before one of Keith’s shaking hands lifted the knife from the box.

 

“Shiro,” Keith said brokenly, his throat closing up as tears threatened to fall.  It was his mother’s knife, the one that Keith had pawned to help pay for tuition at the beginning of his first year of college.  The dark gem embedded in the hilt winked up at Keith, turning the blade in his hands - it looked exactly as it had been when Keith had handed it to the pawn shop’s owner.  The money he had gotten for it had almost paid for the entire semester itself, but Keith had regretted the transaction the instant he’d handed it over.

 

“It took me awhile to track it down,” Shiro said quietly, not quite meeting Keith’s eye.  “It would’ve been easier if you told me which shop you sold it at, but...It belonged to your mother, it should be yours.”  The way Shiro said it so _earnestly_ was the straw that broke the camel’s back, Keith’s eyes overflowing silently.  His best friend probably spent _way_ more than it was worth, to get it back…

 

Without a second thought, Keith frog-leapt over the table, knocking Shiro off-balance, and the two of them tumbled to the floor.  Shiro grunted in mild pain as his back smacked into the hard ground, the wind knocked out of him unexpectedly.  He wheezed in a breath, but then Keith’s lips were suddenly on his - the only way that Keith could express just how much this gift meant, teeth clicking together painfully.  Shiro hummed, and cupped the back of Keith’s head, changing their angle slightly to reduce the potential teeth clashing.  It was sloppy, painful, and Shiro was a bit worried that there was too much saliva, but the warmth in his chest proved it was worth it when Keith eventually pulled away, blinking down at Shiro with wet eyes.

 

“Thank you.  Shiro, this is the best birthday I’ve ever had,” Keith murmured reverently.  He settled himself more comfortably on top of Shiro, and rested his head on his best friend’s shoulder.  Within a few blinks, Keith was fast asleep - the best way to ring in any birthday.


End file.
